Chapter 22

Deep in the woods, there is a small grove. It is out of the way of most villages, and it is not well-known. Off the beaten path, it was all Ero'then wanted. The trees hid him from the sky and the trees hid him from the world. But it didn't hide the demon's screams.

No, those screams echoed through the woods. They would rise, rise, rise, then fall. Then they would rise again, to new heights, and Ero'then was reminded of a stringed instrument. He was a musician.

The demon was pinned to the forest floor. Bits of its skin and flesh were scattered around the clearing. There was no hope for its escape. Ero'then had made sure of that. He was making sure that it paid and paid dearly. He counted its payment in volume and pitch.

"I see you don't like that in particular," he said. He felt feverish. It must have been aftereffects of the loss of the Well. He would adapt. He had plans."Less than you deserve. Far, far, far less." He would work more, more creatively. He wasn't aware of his spectator until he turned away from the demon for a moment and saw her.

The druid's face was stony. Her arms were crossed, but that didn't mean anything at all. The druid's arms had always been crossed.. He imagined that she had been pulled out of her mother with her arms crossed.

"Ah!" he said. "Anora! Hello." He had to shout to be heard over the demon. He flicked his wrist and its mouth sealed shut, melded together like its lips were hot candle wax. Its moans came from what was left of its chest. "I was able to grab it before the Well collapsed. Join me?"

The druid did not respond.

"Ah!" he said again. "Of course. I'd forgotten. You've slain enough demons for a lifetime, haven't you? You know, we heard of the Deepwoods, even in the palace. And the name too, mentioned a couple times even by the nobles. Stormborn. Stormborn." He laughed.

"Ero'then, send it away."

He blinked at her. "Why?"

"Send it away."

Unconsciously, he licked his lips. There was dried demon blood there.

He chuckled nervously. "I'm just trying to help," he said.

"It's over Ero'then." Were those tears? Couldn't be. Why would there? "Send it away. It's all right."

"All right." No. "It's not all right. I didn't know, Anora."

"Send it away."

"They told us we were helping. We were helping, Anora. Just like I said. We were saving the world. They were all talented like me, and not all of them were Highborne either. The queen said we were stopping them. She was glorious Anora, so glorious. We worked for her. For the empire. To save it. To use the Well to stop them.

"But they lied to us, Anora. They lied to us. We weren't stopping them. They were using us to help them. We were building things to help them."

"Send—"

"And while I was working, I heard about you. About how you were fighting. You were a hero, Anora. Everyone knew your name! You rallied the Deepwoods. The great hero Anora Stormborn. And I was there. I was there in the capital and I was saving the world too. But it was them, not us. My work would have destroyed us all.

"I worked hard, Anora. I was brilliant. I built wondrous things, things I thought you would have marveled to see one day, when the war was over. I worked so hard. I thought we were saving us, Anora, but it was you who was saving the world and fighting the demons and I… I was…"

"Send it away, Ero'then."

He looked from her to the writhing demon. He looked back to her helplessly. He didn't want to send it away. "But…" He couldn't even form the excuse. It choked him on its way up.

"What will they do to me?" he whispered. "What will Malfurion do to us?"

Anora was shaking her head. She pointed to the demon.

Ero'then was pained. He turned to the demon. He looked back to the druid. Her gaze was uncompromising.

He sent it away. He thought he heard its vile glee as it vanished. He slumped and winced. He turned to face the druid.

She slammed into him, crushing him in a bone-breaking hug, almost knocking him over. She gripped him, pinning his arms to his sides.

His head fell back and he wailed, like she had squeezed it out of him. Its rawness filled the woods.

He wailed. He wailed and he wept.

They stayed like that for a night. Anora sobbed too, but not like Ero'then did. It was more than a weeping. He came apart in her arms—bits and pieces like dry wood dissolving in water. The sound of him made her sob even more. His heart came out in soul-crushing sobs.

"Look at me," she said at last, and he did. His eyes were bloodshot.

"No one ever needs to know," she told him. "Join Malfurion. I'll teach you. You were with me in the Deepwoods. No one needs to know where you came from. You've never practiced arcane magic. I'll swear to it. I'll have everyone who was with me at the Deepwoods swear to it as well. Whatever happens, you can never use it again. Ever."

Reason seemed to trickle back to him. He shook his head violently. "There were others," he said. "There could have been Highborne who survived like I did. Who know me. They'll tell Malfurion, and…"

"It'll be our word against theirs. I'll teach you to be a druid. Then go to study under Malfurion. The whole world has changed Ero'then. It'll be the druids and the priestesses who run things now."

Ero'then felt a calm start to pervade him for the first time in years. He turned the idea over in his head like dough.

It could work. Even if the Highborne he worked with had survived, it would be as she said. Their word against hers. Their word against the word of Anora Stormborn. And if he could become a druid…

"But what about you?" he asked. "What are Malfurion's plans? Will you become a teacher for others as well?"

She smiled at him. "No, I don't think I will. It seems the druids will become male-led. I don't think there'll be a place for me. Besides," she said, as Ero'then started to protest, "I didn't learn it for others' benefit. I'll practice it in my own way. As I always have."

Ero'then nodded and looked at Anora. He thought again about what she'd done, and about what he'd done, and he smiled and said, "All right Shan'do," and he sobbed again.

No. He would never practice arcane magic again. It would be difficult, but with her by his side, he could resist it. Druidism would change him. Could he actually become what the Highborne had stolen from him? It seemed it would be a farce, but he could make it his own. He had always liked the woods. Ever since they were little, she had loved the forests. He had learned to love them too.

But at the moment, he wasn't thinking about druidism. He pulled Anora closer to him and kissed her under the stars. He felt her lips grin under his.

"My," she said. "How many Highborne women did it take to teach you how to kiss like that?"

"Told you it'd be worth it," he said. And he kissed her again, under the trees.

Under the stars.


When Ero'then woke, he was alone on the roof of the manaforge.

He had wanted to rest and recharge his body as much as he could before it began. Unfortunately, however, his dreams had left him only more restless. The wind was cooling the sweat on his arms. He didn't feel rested.

He reached out to the storm. He felt its nebulae, its rawness that only a complicated machine like the manaforge could possibly hope to turn into anything useful. He felt the intensity of the storm, twisted by the dark tendrils of the Nether, so close to this world here.

And he felt them.

He didn't have long. The deed would not be simple. He had done every preparation he could remember… or imagine. He wasn't even sure what exactly he was trying to do. But that, he thought, he would discover. He just had to start. The details would come to him.

So he began. And as he worked, he felt more acutely the power of the Burning Legion drawing nearer and nearer.